


How I Wish I Could Dance With You

by CuriousRebel



Series: The King's Love [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Comes To A Decision, Arthur adores Merlin, Dancing, M/M, Pining, Visiting Royals, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousRebel/pseuds/CuriousRebel
Summary: We take up position, and Merlin places his hand on my shoulder, obviously content to allow me to lead for once. I begin to lead us slowly and cautiously through the dance, distracted by the tension in his shoulders.Arthur intends to marry one of the princes and princesses visiting Camelot, but he cannot shake the feeling that he belongs with someone else.





	How I Wish I Could Dance With You

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I've actually managed to write this, but I'm so glad that I have. Hope you enjoy!

“I don’t understand why I have to dance, anyway.” I mutter, following Merlin with my head as he flits round, fanning out my trailing cape. Merlin decided that tonight would be a good night for me to practise dancing in the garments I will be wearing to the ball, just to make sure that I can do it without tripping.   
“Because it’s a ball, Arthur, and that’s what people do at balls.” Merlin replies, and I can hear the tension in his voice. It’s been like this between us since we first started discussing the idea of my marriage to a member of the visiting nobility. They’ve been in Camelot since yesterday morning and I still have no idea who I would pick.   
None of the candles are lit, and we have only the moonlight to see each other by, but I notice that Merlin is avoiding looking at me.   
“Yes, I suppose.” I try to catch his eye, but he ignores me and stands back to admire his handy-work.   
He nods,” There. A King fit for marriage.”  
The words strike me and my insides turn. I really don’t want to get married. Not if it means that Merlin will always look at me like this, with a crushing sadness that he covers with forceful merriment. More and more, I’ve been thinking I would rather forget alliances and let the consequences to Camelot be damned than to have him pretend for just one moment longer.  
“Right.” Merlin says decisively, stepping up so that we’re toe to toe. We’re the same height, but this seems to be where our similarities end. He’s thin and gangly where I’m broad and stocky. His hair is thick and dark where mine is fair and light. His hands are calloused worker’s hands where mine are thick battler’s hands. People have told me that I’m the perfect image of a King – though I don’t know what basis they’re working from – but, despite all our opposing features, I can’t help but think that Merlin is the perfect image of a King, too. Kind, just, fair, loyal, passionate. I can image us standing side by side before the people of Camelot.   
We take up position, and Merlin places his hand on my shoulder, obviously content to allow me to lead for once. I begin to lead us slowly and cautiously through the dance, distracted by the tension in his shoulders.  
There is one more similarity between us. Our eyes. Huntith once told me she thought they matched perfectly and, however innocent, nothing makes me feel more hot under the collar.   
Merlin begins to sing as I lead him around the moonlit room. It’s not the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard, but it’s steady and brave and his. It’s wonderful, and I know from the moment he starts that the way his voice rises along with my heartbeat will be chipped into my memory forever, no matter what happens.  
The way I feel about him is so set in stone that it feels odd, impossible even, to consider doing anything that goes against it. But that’s exactly what I’m doing, thinking about marriage to one of the many princes and princesses visiting us.   
I try to imagine a faceless royal in Merlin’s place. Here in my arms, dancing in the moonlight. Advising me privately outside the council hall. Standing to me as my equal and making sure I’m seeing things straight. Allowing me into their most private secrets and memories through stolen quiet moments between banquets and battles and balls. I try, but I can’t do it. These are Merlin things, irreplaceably his.   
Merlin stops singing as we come to the dance’s final steps, and it seems as though we have been thinking the same things, because our eyes shine with twin tears.  
Merlin shakes his head sadly, but at the same time says,” You’re getting better at leading.”   
Like we’re sharing the room with an unseen enemy, who’s blind but not deaf and only allows us to communicate with our eyes. Or maybe it’s just that saying it aloud would be impossibly painful.   
Merlin is watching me. It’s not uncommon, for him to look at me like he’s looking for my true intentions or searching for my private feelings, especially recently. But I know that this time he’s waiting for more. Even if he doesn’t realise it, Merlin is waiting for me to tell him the impossible.   
I think of what my father would say. A King and his manservant? Laughable. Merlin is so much more, but my father drilled traditional ideals into me since birth, and I can’t drown out his voice even with my strongest sentiments for Merlin.   
I turn away and pretend that I don’t see him waiting for me to speak. I try to ignore the way it feels, like missing my very last chance.

Merlin has been teaching me tirelessly how to dance for the past few months since this royal conference was announced, and now that I’m sweeping around the floor, putting those lessons into practise, I can’t help but imagine him in my arms instead of this giggling princess.  
I catch a glimpse of him laughing with Gwen at the side of the room, both of them oblivious to the guests’ slightly disapproving looks. My heart sings at the sight of them, free and happy in their servitude while the rest of the people in the room are shackled by propriety. I can’t help but also feel a little wistful, thinking that the space between them would be the perfect place to be stood right now.   
Merlin looks up and catches my eye as we whirl closer to the table they’re serving and gives me a subtle thumbs up. Gods, how I wish I could dance with him now.   
“-ord? My Lord?” I blink and realise that the princess I’m dancing with is speaking to me.   
“Yes?” I answer, tearing my eyes from Merlin’s supportive grin.  
“You seem very remiss tonight, my Lord.” She’s smiling sweetly, like she feels that she might get somewhere with me. Lots of the princes and princesses have been looking at me like that, like they truly want to know my problems. The expression makes them look like they’re imitating Merlin. I feel like I’m stringing them all along. I glance between her and Merlin, expecting more of the clashing frustration or the longing sadness, but instead I’m met with a sudden calm and an easy feeling in my stomach. Have I really been trying to decide between royals I’ve hardly met and Merlin?  
When I look at the princess, she no longer looks like an accidental enemy and Merlin no longer looks like an unobtainable desire. I know exactly what I have to do.  
I smile back at the princess. “My most sincere apologies, Princess, it’s just that I’ve come to a rather important decision.”  
I don’t know how she interprets this, but I smile when I spin her. 

Later that night, long after dark and hours after the guests have dispersed to their rooms, Merlin helps me out of my clothes. We’re quiet in the warmth that the fire provides the room with and his face is happy with memories of the evening.   
I think of his sadness as we danced last night and I adore him for being able to enjoy himself despite that sadness. His features are open but concentrated as he works and he doesn’t seem to notice me watching him in the firelight. I press the back of my fingers against his cheek.  
“I’ll make you happy one day, Merlin.” I whisper, emotion clawing up my throat. His hands stop and his eyes flicker up to mine, and for a moment I think I might have imagined all the sad smiles and burning stares over the last few months.   
But then he smiles faithfully,” I don’t doubt it, my Lord.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the start of a series of five. The others should be up soon!


End file.
